My Side of the Island
by LittlestShadow
Summary: After another failed attempt to catch a Nightfury, Hiccup decides to pull a Sam Gribley and take a little vacation (forever). When his planned return to Berk is postponed by a Nightfury nestling he may or may not, completely by accident, become a feral dragon boy... Starts one year before HTTYD- My Side of the Mountain AU.
1. Hiccup Holes up in a Snowstorm

_There were dragons when I was a boy._

_You will have to take my word for it…_

* * *

In Which Hiccup Holes up in a Snowstorm

"I am in a Viking longboat on the side of a mountain. It is an old hulk, it must be older than this coast itself. The waves don't reach this high anymore, even in the fiercest storm. But it made a fine shelter after I filled the cracks with clay and covered the back with earth. It looked like a little hill before winter set in- belly-up and half buried with grass growing over the top.

There is a blizzard blowing outside now. We only settled down when the cold threatened. I was worried, at first, but a small fire is enough to heat the boat, even though the woven branches I used to cover the doorway are drafty. So there's enough firewood and food for now, even if it will be harder to find more later. I'll need to find a way to get fresh fish through the ice too, and store them without attracting Terrible Terrors…

I think the storm is dying down now, the moaning of the wind around the cliffs is not as loud. I wonder if we're snowed in? But it's too dark to see and I'm not leaving the fire to look.

What if we can't dig out? I've never dug up from underneath before, what if the snow is too heavy? Where will I put the snow I move? There must be a way, though. Lots of animals even smaller than me burrow in the winter and have to dig themselves out.

I guess I'll figure it out in the morning."

* * *

Hiccup wrote that in his notebook the night of his first blizzard, and he was scared that he'd finally gone too far. He anticipated it for months, debated whether or not he should go back to Berk before winter, then finally prepared to stay and worried over the decision. And when he saw the broiling clouds billowing in from the ocean as those first snowflakes started down, he had been more frightened than when he'd first left Berk, more than when he'd been chased by angry dragons. He dreaded that he'd dared too much after all and would finally face the cold reality of his foolhardy venture.

But the morning after the storm subsided, he discovered that leaving his overturned boat was as easy as shifting his door of thatched branches and standing up. He found the world frozen and fresh- the pines enveloped by blankets of snow, the crags of the rocks smoothed with white, the frozen bay a pristine meadow- perfectly flat. And the sky- _the sky_- the most shocking, clear and vivid blue he had ever seen. Sunlight glittered off miniscule crystals of ice. All was peaceful and still- so much so that Hiccup let out a disbelieving laugh. Short and hesitant at first, then wild with the joy of triumph.

"I- I did it!" He cried, raising his arms, breath catching in his excitement. In the wake of the storm, everything was different, and he had a whole new world to explore.

"Toothless! Toothless!" He leaned down and stuck his head back into the boat. "C'mon, bud! Let's go!"

Armed with a heavy, woven brown cloak over his winter furs and a giddy laugh, Hiccup dove from the snowbank that had formed in the lee of his shelter. A moment later Toothless, his tamed Nightfury, shot from the boat in a streak of black- and immediately regretted his decision.

The pony-sized black dragon let out a startled reptilian squawk and back peddled as soon as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. But he was going too fast, was too close to the ground, and his wing beats only served to throw him back just far enough that he landed in the deepest part of the snowdrift.

Hiccup laughed himself to tears as the young Nightfury- the bane of mighty Viking warriors, crown prince of the night, _unholy offspring of lightning and death itself_- floundered piteously in the white powder.

"I'm- ha! No, I'm s-sorry, bud-" Hiccup wiped his eyes on the back of his leather mittens as he tried to catch his breath and stumbled toward his friend.

Toothless finally righted himself, glaring, and might have looked angry or annoyed had his mottled green eyes not been so wide in bewilderment.

"No, I'm serious," Hiccup said, regaining his composure "I'm sorry. This is your first snow, isn't it? You've never seen it piled up before, have you?"

He asked as if the dragon could answer, and assisted in hauling him out of the snowbank with a grin.

"Well, don't worry. Snow is great fun! I mean, as long as you don't have to shovel pathways through it after every storm, but we don't have to worry about that out here…"

Hiccup walked to the edge of the slope and smiled an absent sort of half smile as he looked out over the beauty of the winter wreathed landscape. Toothless sneezed some snow off of his nose and followed with an awkward step, his broad head twisted so he could watch his forelegs shuffle through the snow.

"What do you think?" the young man asked, after the dragon had been still for a moment at his side.

The only response was a soft, oddly musical churr that bubbled up from the back of the Nightfury's throat.

"You know… I bet I could beat you to the sea ice…"

Toothless must have caught his tone because he was on his feet, back arched playfully, the moment Hiccup tensed. The two of them charged down the slope, skidding and tumbling in their haste. Even the dragon was laughing as they hit the coast and promptly slipped on the ice, crashing into one another and ending up a tangled pile of limbs and leathery wings.

It continued like that, the boundless enthusiasm and wonder of the two youths drove them on. Toothless was soon diving in and out of the snow like a weasel and sliding down hillsides with otter-like exuberance. Hiccup introduced him to snowballs and snowforts and the joys of shaking a branchfull of snow down on another's head. They played the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, only retreating to their warm longboat when they were both shivering and damp with melted snow.

* * *

**Talk about an AU no one wanted! If any clicked on this story with an amount of understanding/anticipation after reading 'My Side of the Mountain AU', then you are A+. High five, friend.**

**Why, you ask? Aside from the obvious 'My Side of the Mountain is a childhood favorite (with HTTYD a later childhood favorite)' and 'falconry and dragons are _perfection_', it's because I saw a peregrine falcon yesterday. Not up close, but that silhouette is unmistakable. As a wildlife biology and paleontology enthusiast, the opening of the HTTYD book is lodged in my mind as one of the simplest, most horrifically ominous phrases to ever exist. As I looked up, it struck me again how easy it would have been for that silhouette to be before my time- for all I knew of those wings to be the distantly recalled words of a grandfather- _"There were falcons when I was a boy… You'll have to take my word for it…"_**

**Anyhoo~ I am ridiculously excited to write this fic. Hiccup becomes a feral dragon boy (sorta by accident, because he's a dope and takes after his mum) and raises up a baby Nightfury in the wilds of Berk. Despite that opening quote, you may expect fluffity fluff fluff. Oh so much fluff. And jubilant salutes to My Side of the Mountain, of course…**

**Reviews and constructive criticism always appreciated! Let me know what you think!**


	2. Hiccup Gets Started on This Venture

"_Men still live who, in their youth, remember... _

_Trees still live who, in their youth, were shaken by a living wind. _

_But a decade hence only the oldest oaks will remember, and at long last only the hills will know."_

* * *

In Which Hiccup Gets Started on This Venture 

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III left the village of Berk in May. He had his pocket knife, a bundle of odds and ends, a small axe, and a fire striker, which he had fashioned himself from scraps in Gobber's smithy. He also had his ubiquitous drafting utensils and sketchbook, bound loosely in leather. Just because he was running away didn't mean that he planned to live like a _barbarian_.

It wasn't his fault, really. From where he'd been standing, it really looked like his drop net had snared the Nightfury. Even when the rest of the village had scoffed, he had been _so sure_. And when his father had humored him and gone to check?

Well.

_Of course_ he had missed.

He was the laughing stock of the village. Again. Still.

What was worse, when Stoick discovered his intention to run away a few days later? The man laughed. Guffawed and beamed with pride. He told Hiccup of when he had run away as a child and been back before nightfall, and how his father had done the same. It turned out that trying to run away was another manly Viking tradition, and Stoick had been proud to see his son take it up.

Hiccup blushed vividly when his father patted him on the shoulder and implied that he would see him for dinner that night. Yet again, no one took him seriously. Not that he could blame them; he had yet to give them reason to. Even as he smiled and nervously and laughed along with those who dismissed him, his resolve steeled. Only Gobber had the good sense to cast him a concerned glance.

He was packed and gone before his father returned home that night.

* * *

May was not a kind month on Berk. The sun climbed higher each day, but snow clung to every shadow and dip in the land. Evergreens were still hunched from their winter load of snow and broad-leaved trees had just begun to bud. Only early spring flowers had managed to push through the leaf litter, and Hiccup made good time hiking through the tamped down remnants of last year's undergrowth.

"Well this was a stupid idea." He mumbled, eyes trained on the ground. "Run away? I live on an island! An island plagued by _dragons_!"

But, even after he barely escaped without broken toes after aiming a frustrated kick at a dirt clot that was still frozen to the ground, he maintained his heading.

That night he couldn't find enough dry tinder to make a fire and settled instead in a rocky crag, out of the wind, with his winter cloak as a blanket and his pack as a pillow. His axe lay within easy reach, just in case a hungry Nightmare decided to snuffle about in the night. In which case he'd be roasted before he could so much as heft the thing, but perhaps he could beat off an uppity Terror.

Despite his better judgment, in the long hours he lay awake he never seriously entertained the concept of returning to the village. He was a Viking, and had all of the stubbornness issues that entailed. Dragons were an occupational hazard, a cold night wasn't even an uncommon occurrence let alone a deterrent. Even if it had been, he wasn't about to give up without a fight.

Not this time around.

"Just for a couple weeks, months, maybe. I'll prove that I can do it, and be back before winter…" Hiccup cast his axe one last glance, the polished metal of the head just barely visible in the diffuse moonlight, then tugged his cloak up to his nose and slept.

* * *

Survival on his own came far easier than even Hiccup expected. True, he hadn't been too nervous about it in the first place- he'd spent his life surrounded by all aspects of fishing, after all, and the woods had been his second home before he'd started helping Gobber at the forge. The climb over the mountains was rough, but after he'd put Berk's rocky spine behind him he'd followed a stream to the sea. From there on out it was child's play.

Hungry fish, newly active after the thaw, snapped up every bait he put out, in ocean or stream. No one ventured to the rugged far side of the island where the ground was too steep and rocky for grazing or farming and the coasts too shallow for ships to moor close to shore, so edible plants still grew unharvested and mussels and limpets were easy to find. Even small game would have been easy enough to catch, had he cared to practice setting snares.

Instead, with nothing but time, Hiccup wandered up the coast. He'd stay for a couple of days if he found a good shelter or a particularly plentiful foraging site, but otherwise kept moving north. Out of habit he'd been keeping a rough map of his travels, but by the third week he was challenging himself with more precise measurements and accurate drawings.

That's when he really began to notice the dragons. The village of Berk was on the south end of the island. As he moved to the north end and spent more time still and silent as he drew, the dragons became more numerous. And, he noted, markedly less vicious. He spent hours with his legs dangling off of a cliff, just barely out of the spray, sketching a Monstrous Nightmare as it basked on a nearby sea stack. It was closer than he'd ever been, yet the beast scarcely spared him a glance before it lethargically stretched its wings to catch the sun and closed its eyes. Near the sketch he noted:

"Surprisingly placid when not threatened. The most troubling aspect was trying to draw its ochre scales and gold highlights with nothing but charcoal."

The son of the Chief even spent an entire evening watching a group of Deadly Nadders spiral and swoop up and down the coast, tossing and playing keep-away with an unremarkable bit of driftwood. Their forms slipped in and out of silhouette as they spiraled before the setting sun. Hiccup, sprawled on his back, watched them until it was too dark to see.

So he hadn't been particularly upset when he spotted a small group of Terrors watching him from a safe distance as he gutted a couple of trout. They were wary enough, slinking about a nearby boulder, but their oversized heads and bulbous eyes weren't exactly inconspicuous.

"You guys aren't so bad, yeah?" Hiccup chuckled. "Here ya go…"

Three Terrors bounded forward when he tossed his leftovers in their direction. Even though it was only a few feet away from him, the scraps were gone in seconds. After that they showed very little fear, and one that snuffled about Hiccup's feet even allowed him to brush the outside curve of its wing.

And so feeding the small dragons became a habit of his. Though he was always on the move and rarely saw the same group twice, he managed now and then to coax one in close enough to pet. That was the only encouragement he needed.

Five weeks in- he watched the sunset with his sketchbook open on his lap and a particularly friendly group of Terrors piled about his legs in content, food-induced slumber, and decided that he didn't need to go back to Berk quite yet. Even if he _had_ been gone long enough now to make a point…

"I's not like I've got friends who will miss me!" He confided to a sleeping lizard with a series of exaggerated nods, and patted its round little ribcage. "And dad… he might miss me, but he'll be fine. He's always fine. Another few weeks without the fishbone getting in his way won't bother him…"

"I'll at least map to the northern most tip of the island, then." He relaxed again with a crooked smile. "We'll see how long that takes."

Night had fallen. But the clear sky wouldn't bring much dew and Hiccup didn't have the heart to wake the Terrors, so he reclined against a boulder and watched the stars come out. Perhaps it was a sign the Gods approved of his decision that, just then, he heard a faint whistling on the wind.

A couple weeks ago, even that distant sound would have had him leaping to his feet, and probably losing his balance in a spectacular fashion soon thereafter, but now only his eyes snapped open. He lay still. Gronkles had been passing by all afternoon, even if he only saw a few of them their rumble was unmistakable, and this new sound conjured only one thought in his mind-

_Nightfury._

He was torn between raw, ingrained fear and a wave of excitement so intense it caught him off guard. When the star-splattered twilight sky remained devoid of movement for a couple more minutes, he couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed.

But he wasn't surprised. Even though it was dead calm, the wind silent, and he couldn't think of any other probable source for that faintest of whistles- he tried to convince himself that he was mistaken. Nightfurys were the rarest, most elusive, most dangerous, most _prized_ of all of the known species. To think that _he_ would find one by _accident_ while _napping_ on the beach was absurd.

But that night, warmed by his living blanket of Terrors, he dreamed of darkness and speed and the roar of wind around unseen wings. For the first time, dragons crawled from his nightmares and into his dreams.

* * *

**I will try to keep my updates bite-sized, as the chapters in My Side of the Mountain are. The matter-of-fact writing style is an attempt to stick to theme as well. If you have not read the book then I do recommend it, but you're not missing out on anything in this story.**

**There will be baby Nightfurys in the next chapter! So, to keep us grounded, I decided to keep up with the sobering opening quotes. This one is courtesy Aldo Leopold (1947, _On a Monument to the Pigeon_). Yes indeed, he is referring to the passenger pigeon, once the most numerous bird in the world- they flew in flocks so thick they blocked out the sun, so long they took three days to pass, so large that the beating of their billions of wings could be heard as a distant thunder-like rumble long before they came into sight and built to a roar as they passed overhead. This September the first (2014) will mark the 100th anniversary of their extinction.**

**"At other times I have seen them move in one unbroken column for hours across the sky, like some great river, ever varying in hue; and as the mighty stream, sweeping on at sixty miles an hour, reached some deep valley, it would pour its living mass headlong down hundreds of feet, sounding as though a whirlwind was abroad in the land. I have stood by the grandest waterfall of America… yet never have my astonishment, wonder, and admiration been so stirred as when I have witnessed these birds drop from their course like meteors from heaven." -Simon Pokagon, from "The Chautauquan," November, 1895**

**There were pigeons when he was a boy.**

**Hold tight to your dragons, my friends.**


	3. The Queen's Provider

'"_Les hommes ont oublié cette vérité, dit le renard. Mais tu ne dois pas l'oublier. _

_Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé."_

_"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. _

_You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."'_

* * *

The Queen's Provider

Hiccup did not move on the next day. He told himself it was because he'd found a wonderful little stream full of freshwater mussels only a couple inlets farther north, and that it would be a _shame_ to pass those up…

Which is how sunset found him on a rocky prominence again, stuffed with roasted mussels and snacking on tender new shoots of lamb's lettuce. His sketchbook lay open but forgotten in his lap. Preoccupied, he instead watched the same Terrors from the previous day tumble about the rocks nearby, pouncing on one another and play-fighting for possession of some empty mussel shells. This night was different, however, and when the sun hit the horizon the Terrors gathered, chattered at one another, and retreated south down the coast. Their piping contact calls faded long after they were out of sight.

Though he spared a thought for this change in behavior, Hiccup was sad to see them go more than anything. With a sigh for his lost company he turned his attention back to the sky, keeping a cautious lookout that his rational mind refused the think of as a stake-out.

But if the idea of him finding a Nightfury was absurd, then absurdity still stalked him as closely as it ever had in Berk.

There was a flash of movement against the dusky blue sky as soon as the uppermost tip of the sun sank out of sight. A sliver of black detached itself from the top of a sea stack and sank to the ocean's surface in a long, even glide. Viewed side-on the form was thin and fleeting. Hiccup almost lost sight of it in the distance before it rose in an ever-broadening spiral, with only an occasional wing beat. It passed high but almost directly above his head on its widest loop before it locked into another glide and silently slid away to the east.

Hiccup craned his neck and did not take his eyes off of the shadow until it disappeared over the mountains behind him, then let out the entirety of his held breath in an extended sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. He flopped onto his back, arms thrown out to his sides.

"Wow." The young Viking breathed. "Wow…"

But he didn't stay down for long. There were likenesses to be sketched before the light failed completely- the very first of a Nightfury _ever_. And below his outlined silhouette and sketched sea stacks he dropped in the note:

"Quick as I'd imagined, but silent. It seemed to make an attempt to conceal the location of its roost by gliding almost out of sight before it gained height. Clearly intelligent."

* * *

The following day dawned chilly, windy, and drearily overcast. Miserable weather for digging clams, so Hiccup hooked a couple of small trout instead and tucked himself into a rocky depression covered over with enormous pine trees. It wasn't comfortable or perfectly watertight, but it was shelter from the wind and insistent blown mist. There he set his fish to cooking on a spluttering, neglected fire while he pored over his sketchbook. He touched up the hasty illustrations of the previous night and added a few more small ones, but in the end his charcoal pencil stilled and his brow furrowed.

It wasn't that the drawings were bad- no, considering the subject and less than optimal conditions there was not much more he could do with them- but that was just it. The rest of his sketchbook was filled with _detail_. On the dragons, yes, but also his blueprints and many other animals- darting weasels under the ferns, bobbing seals, rangy rabbits, countless soaring seabirds and fish flashing in a stream- even shells and plants and the occasional sweeping landscape. His Nightfury was tantalizing, fascinating in its obscurity. Not bad, it was…

It was a good start.

Hiccup ran a hand across his face and groaned, resigned to the fact that he had apparently already made up his mind. One way or another, he had to find out more about this Nightfury- and he lay awake half of that cloudy night coming up with a plan.

* * *

"Not my best plan. And coming from _me_, that's saying something…"

Hiccup stood at the mouth of the inlet where he had first seen the Nightfury. A small triangular raft lay at his feet, lashed together with odd bits of twine he had brought with him. It wouldn't hold his weight, but it would make his relatively short swim that much easier. The water close to shore on this side of the island was fairly shallow- inconvenient for even the low draft Viking longboats, but perfect for children who wanted to sneak into the lair of the most dangerous dragon in the world.

The water was cold but thankfully not _freezing_ as was its usual habit. Hiccup's journey to the Nightfury's sea mount was a long wade and a blessedly short swim. The day was warm and he arrived early enough to spread out on a low rock ledge and dry in the sun as he mulled over the next phase in his plan.

It was by far the trickiest part. Hopefully the Nightfury was asleep and had not noticed his arrival. _Hopefully_ it would glide straight away come nightfall, just as it had done two nights previously, and leave Hiccup a brief window to explore its roost before darkness overcame him and he had to retreat to the island.

Slapdash, at best.

The sun set. Hiccup pressed his back to the seamount and waited with his leather pack, empty of all gear except a rope, hugged to his chest. The Nightfury took to the sky right on time, so close Hiccup could hear the hushed sound of it passing overhead. He made a note of where it took off and watched until it spiraled up in the distance and glided away.

Hiccup threw himself at the cliff wall without delay. The first part was easy, but the slope quickly became sheer. Just when he thought he was stuck he'd find another ridge to shimmy along, another ledge to squeeze onto. Only when he reached a massive overhang of rock did he stop, stymied. A glance down at his distant bobbing raft showed just how high he was, and convinced him that looking down again would not be the wisest of ideas. With a cracked _eep_ of fear that he was glad no one was around to hear, Hiccup pressed himself into the crack below the lip of stone- and his hand came down on something cold and slimy. It almost startled him off of the cliff face. With an even less dignified sound and a deal of scrambling he regained his footing and identified the culprit.

A fish. Slimy but not yet rotten- and clearly gnawed on.

He sucked a deep breath in through his teeth and edged along the horizontal crack until it widened into a deep cleft, tall enough for him to stand up in. There, the first thing Hiccup did was tie his rope securely about a rock and toss the free end down the cliff side. A rope would make his descent comparatively easy, even in poor light. With his escape plan set, he was free to explore.

The dragon's roost was cleaner than he expected- fish bones were scattered here and there, but no rotting carcasses. Rocks covered the floor, the larger ones seemed concentrated at the edge of the cleft. Upon closer inspection Hiccup found not only fish bones scattered among them, but small black disks slick as oiled metal- _Nightfury scales_- and something different. Shards. Curved, smooth and speckled grey-black on one face, white with a papery, almost chalky feel on the other…

Hiccup could scarcely believe his luck. Eggshells- they had to be- of the most elusive dragon of them all. He picked along the ground, hardly daring to breathe as he stuffed the finds into his pockets, until a twitch of movement halted him in his tracks.

That's when he saw them- three nestling Nightfurys staring at him from the back wall, drawn up thin and so wide-eyed they looked startled. Their dark, mottled bodies blended with the shadowed rocks so well he might have missed them if it weren't for their eyes- three different shades of yellow-green.

"Oh," Hiccup sighed, and relaxed his reflexive cowering posture when the little Furys remained still. "Hello, hello. You're all kinda cute…"

Which was true but Hiccup, very aware of his limited time, looked them over with an artist's eye. Their bodies were roughly the size of a cat, but oversized wings and forearms, long tails and great flat heads made them appear larger. Silvery markings and spots down their sides broke up their outline. Though they sat huddled in a pile, they were very clearly different sizes. Like birds, Hiccup reasoned, they must have hatched out a day or two apart, the youngest one perhaps more than that. It was drastically smaller than its siblings and not nearly as chubby and round with baby fat.

Which made sense. It probably competed with its larger siblings for food.

Hiccup felt a little bad for staying close to the Nightfury chicks for so long when they were clearly frightened of him, so he backed off with haste and did one last, quick circuit of the nest to make sure he hadn't missed anything big. With more time he was sure he could learn so much more, but he didn't have more time. What he'd seen already was a rare privilege. One of a kind, in fact. Still, as he retreated to where his pack lay next to his anchored rope, something nagged at him. Just as he took up the rope to start down, he realized what it was.

In seabirds, at least, the young, small chicks that had to compete against their older siblings very rarely survived.

He paused, one leg already off the ledge, and looked up at the baby Furys. The smallest one was easy to pick out, shoved to the side a little bit, eyes tinted with more green than its fellows'.

"Crazy." He muttered. "That's it! I'm crazy!" and sprang back onto the ledge and to his feet in one movement. He pulled his now empty leather pack off his back and darted forward.

The nestlings panicked at his approach, pressing themselves to the wall with hoarse hisses and burbling growls, wings half open. The movement shunted the youngest to the side, but it kept its feet as the older two staggered and stumbled over themselves. It even dodged Hiccup's first grab, baring its tiny, spade-shaped teeth, but the Viking was not about to be foiled. He leaped forward, pack held out in front of him, and pinned the little Fury with a triumphant cry. The creature squirmed like a fresh caught fish when he scooped it up and continued to growl indignantly as he closed and hauled the pack onto his back.

Hiccup thanked the Gods for rope and wasted no time descending the face of the sea stack. His arms ached by the time he reached the bottom, but he was shivering with adrenaline and vaulted over the rocks to his raft. Stars were visible, even the western horizon was a dark blue, but he could still see the mountains of Berk outlined against the sky. It was all the reference he needed. He swung the now quiet pack down onto his raft and kicked off into the water. With the waves at his back he made good time, which was fortunate as not even the lapping water could drown out a faint, high pitched whistle…

A shadow eclipsed the stars and flashed by him, so close he felt the wind off its wings. Hiccup choked on a mouthful of seawater as he spun to watch it. The dragon _had_ to have seen him, but it hooked its wings and snapped straight up to its nest.

Hiccup turned back toward Berk and swam for all he was worth.

Unfortunately it seemed that Nightfurys could count, and that this one missed its third chick. A moment later there was a roar the likes of which he'd never heard- his pack shifted and squeaked in answer- followed by a rush of wings as the beast threw itself from the sea mount.

He dared not look back, kept struggling on as his feet hit bottom. A whistle in the air built to a roar. _That_ was the sound he had heard during raids, just before-

A flash, and a mass of purple light smashed into the ocean a dozen yards before him. He was dusted with warm spray and lifted by a wave a moment later but he never slowed, only reached forward to hold his pack so it didn't tip and fill with water. There were spots in his vision, but he had eyes only for shore.

No more purple blasts came, but the Nightfury didn't give up. It made pass after pass, growing, snarling and snapping, coming closer each time. Hiccup pushed his raft before him, and at long last the water level dropped below his waist. He snatched up his pack and sprinted for the cover of the trees, but his boots were heavy with water and he stumbled on the sand. The Nightfury chose that moment for its last, desperate pass. It snapped by so close and fast that the edge of a tail fin slashed across Hiccup's shoulder, shearing through his thin woven shirt and into the flesh beneath.

Hiccup yelped and fell hard, but cradled his pack and kept the baby Fury from the worst of it. He threw sand as he scrambled to his feet. Trembling, heart in his throat, he ran blindly into the safe darkness of the forest. For a time he kept running, tripping and clipping tree trunks in the dark, his pack clutched tight to his chest, until he realized that he could no longer hear the flight of the pursuing Nightfury.

His weary jog turned into a staggering walk until he finally dropped into the dip beside an old tree stump. The night was not cold and he was out of the breeze, but the soaked, clammy cloth on his skin had him shivering. Hiccup peeled his shirt off over his head with unsteady hands, winced as he brushed the cut on his shoulder. He discarded his waterlogged boots before he collapsed on the ground with a shaky sigh, utterly wrung out.

The night air was cool across his back. When he heard his pack shift and twitch he rolled to his side and dragged it to him. The little Nightfury went still again but its quiet breathing was just barely audible. When he found that the leather had repelled the water nicely and was dry he pulled it, and the little nestling inside, to his chest. It wasn't a blanket but it was warmer than nothing and he fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes, right there on the ground with a bagged Nightfury hugged to his chest.

* * *

**I gift this mental image to you: little fishbone 14-year-old Hiccup boogie boarding across the straits on his driftwood raft, on his way to steal yo Nightfury…**

**That bit with the youngest of the baby sea birds dying- I did not make that up. Many species of colony nesters hatch two chicks, but only fledge one. Others, like herons, can raise four or five chicks in a good year, but the youngest always have the lowest odds and die if food is not plentiful. (This is less of a problem with smaller birds so, if you see a small chick in songbird nest, do not fear and LEAVE IT ALONE.) Perhaps he would have died in a lean year, but I think Toothless would have survived without Hiccup here, though he would've ended up smaller, leaner, and more aggressive than his sibs.**

**Juvenile coloration. Very common throughout the animal kingdom. Somewhere along the line someone noted that Toothless's spots were fainter in HTTYD2 and proposed that young Nightfurys had prominent spots. I was charmed instantly. But fear not- he is still very black and his patterning will quickly fade.**

**Today's exceptionally pertinent quote was brought to you by Antoine de Saint Exupéry, from his French novella _Le Petit Prince_. Which I should really get around to reading in full. Listen to _le renard_, Hiccup. Those vulpes know things.**


	4. Hiccup Meets Lightning and Death

"_Ar scáth a chéile a mhairimíd_._"_

"_We live in the shadow of each other."_

* * *

In Which Hiccup Meets Lightning and Death

Hiccup awoke to a pair of green eyes staring down at him out of a black, inquisitively tipped head. Two nubby, scaled lobes were pricked up atop it like the ears of a cat tipped in listening. He could've sworn the corners of that wide mouth curved up in a smile.

"G'morning…" Hiccup slurred.

At the sound of his voice the little Fury disappeared in a flash, back into his pack. It peeped out at him, only one round eye visible through a gap under the flap.

"Oh- yeah…" The Viking smiled and spoke softer. He held back both a laugh and a yawn to avoid further startling the poor creature. Dead leaves and twigs had pressed into his bare skin in the night, and when he moved to brush himself off and stretch his right shoulder burned, the skin there tight with brown, dried blood.

Hiccup didn't get a chance to examine his injury until he'd crept back to the coast, located his stashed belongings, and scurried back to the safety of the trees. With the Nightfury in his pack, he hiked with the rest of his resources stacked precariously in his arms and did his best to keep from tripping until he hit a stream. Only then did he lay his upper body in the cold water. His pants had dried stiff with salt as he slept, but were his last article of dry clothing and he was careful to keep them that way. Luckily, the wound on his shoulder gave him little trouble. It stung more than _hurt_, so he wasn't surprised to find that it was not a deep cut. Even if it was as wide as a finger and stretched from the outside of his shoulder and across his shoulder blade, almost to his spine, he could deal with it. It bled very little, even after he soaked and washed it.

"'Occupational hazard', right?" Hiccup said with a shaky smile when he sat up and found the little Nightfury staring at him, head poked from its bag.

This time the dragon did not recoil, but cocked its head and flicked a reptilian ear. With eyes as round a saucers and pupils expanded to match, Hiccup could have sworn it looked curious. The sparkle of morning sunlight off the tumbling mountain stream caught its attention almost immediately. Hiccup's smile eased into something more genuine as he watched reflected light dance across the enraptured nestling's dark scales.

"Now, what to do about you…" Hiccup felt sharp eyes on him as he rooted through his bundle of gear and returned to the stream, up until the moment he flipped a brown trout out of the water with his hand line.

At the sight of the fish, the little dragon fairly went through itself. It seemed unsure if it wanted to stare at Hiccup, wriggle out of the still fastened pack, or pounce on the fish- and so settled for attempting all three at once.

"Heh, I guess that's a yes!"

The Nightfury stilled as Hiccup approached, pupils narrowed to catlike slits. It took his measure, but warily opened a gummy mouth when offered the still flopping fish.

"Toothless?" Hiccup paused, and briefly wondered if the nestling would need its food cut up or mashed. "But I could've sworn you had…"

The fish was gone in a flash teeth. In one go the dragon tossed it up, then snapped it out of the air and swallowed it whole. It licked its teeth and stiff lips with a flat, shallowly forked pink tongue. When it looked back at the Viking its pupils were round again.

"… teeth…" Hiccup finished, one had pulled back in a reflexive movement that would have been much too slow to save his fingers.

But the dragon looked expectant, so Hiccup let it out of his pack and laughed when it batted at the water, nostrils flared, while he set about catching more fish. He- or rather 'Toothless', as Hiccup decided to call him right then- ate three more fish, one rather large, with such enthusiasm that Hiccup struggled to remove the hook from each one before it was stolen away. Only when his belly was visibly distended did the little Fury slow. With the fumbling movements of a young thing full of food, he flopped himself on the surprised Viking's lap. So pinned, Hiccup caught himself some fish, then a few extra for Toothless when he awoke, before finally giving up and shifting the sleeping dragon to a sun-dappled patch of ferns so he could retrieve his fire striker.

He ate with his new friend dozing at his side, then laid on his stomach to observe the little beast in the light of day. Small bumps just barely rose from his spine at his shoulders and hips and similar ridges, so small Hiccup almost missed them, lined the back of his rounded lower legs. Two softer bumps sat at the base of his ear-lobes like tiny, secondary ears. But, even as a tottering nestling, he was undeniably streamlined. With two wings and as many pairs of fins, his little body was bent to tear through the skies as a longboat plied the waves. Even the color on his back and spots down his sides were not silver, as Hiccup had assumed. The scales there were glossier and had a metallic iridescence in the light, but were as black as the rest. In the darkness, the little dragon would have no more color than any other shadow.

Young or not, the creature next to him was every inch a Nightfury.

"Toothless, you'll like it here." Hiccup ran his palm over the fine, soft scales, struck with some sort of awe as he felt the rise and fall of each of the dragon's breaths. "You can have as much fish as you want without fighting for it. You'll grow fast, now. But until you fledge," Hiccup's smile was small but fond. "We can be fishbones together."

* * *

It wasn't much longer before Toothless woke. When he began to nose about for the fish he smelled, Hiccup fed him and wondered at how the little dragon had room for so much food in his small body. Comfortably full, Toothless was asleep again in record time. Hiccup caught some more fish since _clearly_ the Fury would be able to put them away, then set about loading all of his gear into his newly vacated pack. With his sun-dried clothes donned and axe strapped across his back, Hiccup swung on his pack, scooped up the still soundly sleeping Toothless and turned himself north to hike until nightfall. It seemed the adult Nightfury was a creature of the air that would not pursue him into the forest on foot, but that didn't stop him from flinching at every rustle in the undergrowth or freezing like a hunted rabbit when a shadow passed overhead. He swore by all of the Gods he knew of that, by nightfall, he would be as far from the nest as his legs could carry him.

* * *

That evening there was not a single sign of Nightfurys. But Hiccup, who had settled in a thick copse of birch trees, kept his fire small. Just in case. Toothless, long since tired of pawing after glowing cinders, had all but wrapped himself around the fire, tail draped over Hiccup's legs. The Viking had his sketchbook out in his lap, open to a page full of the little dragon playing, tumbling, and sleeping. He was zoned out, watching the firelight glow through the membrane of a tailfin, and was about to put the sketchbook away when he paused. Among the doodles he wrote:

"Toothless will come to me for food when I call him, now. He still cannot fly, though his wings seem big enough. He's just too wobbly. He did try to balance on my arm once but didn't last long. Good thing. He's lighter than he looks, but I can't hold him on one arm outstretched. Before he fell asleep he kept making little chortling growls in his throat.

I think he likes me."

* * *

**I'd be tempted to feel sorry for Hiccup for how quickly he's bonding with this little Nightfury- _if_ I was under the illusion that I would act any differently. And if you claim you would I'd be mighty suspicious.**

**Today's quote is a Gaelic saying and its common English translation. The Irish version of the 'No man is an island' concept. When I googled it, the president of Ireland informed me that _scáth_ literally means shadow, but can be translated as 'shelter'. So. He's either overly poetic, mistaken, or this quote is way more fitting than I originally suspected… ****Next person to name their predominantly dark colored pet Scáth wins. (It's Gaelic, so pronunciation's a tossup. Could be pronounced 'cream cheese' and we'd never know.)**

**Shout out to reviewers, favs, and followers! I know most authors say it, but I appreciate you using your time to let me know what you think. Serious. It's fun to see people run across this, but it _chuffs me to bits_ (to bits, I say!) to know for sure that some enjoy it as much as I do. You lurkers are great too, though, and don't let anyone tell you different. You thought I wouldn't notice! But I did.**


	5. The First Man Who Was After Him

"_Learn how to see. _

_Realize that everything connects to everything else."_

* * *

A Brief Account of

What Hiccup Did About the First Man Who Was After Him

It was not clear to Hiccup how he knew that there was another person in the next inlet. But, after living for more than two months in the wilds of his home isle with only dragons and animals for company, the movement of a human was like the difference between a Terror's spitfire and a Nightmare's full blown inferno.

What if it was someone from the village, come to retrieve him? Surely after so long they would understand that he could take care of himself- that he had succeeded and didn't mess _everything_ up. They wouldn't send someone to haul him back, save him from his own failure, at this point. Would they?

Hiccup backtracked and wormed his way to the top of the stony ridge that looked down into the next inlet. When he caught sight of the man he knew to be there he pressed himself to the rocks and froze, observed with narrowed eyes. The man was not from his village. Hiccup puzzled and tensed in fear, considered for a moment that the man could be an enemy- one of the Outcasts or even a Berserker looking for trouble- before he saw a familiar longboat anchored off shore. It was far more colorful and decorated than any of the ships from his village, and the sails did not bear warlike crests.

It was trader Johann's ship.

Hiccup edged backward, rolled onto his back and heaved a sigh of relief as Toothless picked his way over the rocks toward him. The dragon must have seen him peering over the ridge and picked up on his mood, because he crept close to the ground as he approached the top. When Hiccup apparently relaxed he did as well, and wedged his flat head under one of the boy's arms.

"Yeah, yeah." Hiccup's smile was preoccupied as he engaged the young dragon in a miniature tussle, batted off the beast's paws then wrapped his hands around the sides of his reptilian head and gave him a gentle shake. He couldn't tell if Toothless was just bored and wanted to play or was attempting to parse out his mood. The Nightfury seemed to pause to take in his voice so Hiccup started talking again. He stared into the middle distance, one hand absently running along where Toothless's wing membrane anchored to his back.

"Trader Johann wouldn't be looking for me. He only comes by every couple months so he hasn't been to the village since I left. And I don't think he'd try to take me back unless dad made an explicit request. Then he'd be obliged to make an attempt, to keep up good relations with the tribe. But outside of that…"

Hiccup flip-flopped. Returning to the village by boat would be much, much faster, but he didn't really want to go back yet. He still hadn't made it to the northern most point of the island, after all, plus with Toothless as a dependent he couldn't afford to be taken back. It was altogether too easy to imagine how the tribe would react to a Nightfury, baby or not. Yet Johann wasn't much of a risk, so how should he handle the confrontation…?

After minutes of anxious waffling he realized- there didn't have to _be_ a confrontation. Johann wasn't looking for him, didn't even know he was here. Even if he did, it was Hiccup who knew the lay of the land, Hiccup who wasn't tied to a camp or burdened by fears of dragon attacks. He was perfectly free to do whatever he pleased.

Including walk away.

Toothless chose that moment to tire of the boy's pensive, and mildly stunned, silence. The dragon rolled a light growl from high in his throat and pounced on Hiccup's boots.

"Hey! Would you-"

Hiccup shook him off and tried to shoo him away from his feet but the bright-eyed Toothless danced just out of reach, head bowed in play. When he was sure he had the human's attention he sat up on his haunches expectantly, tipped his head back to flash his gummy mouth, and made the series of loud hiccupping-chirps that meant _I'm hungry, let's go fishing!_

"Hush- Toothless-!" Hiccup hissed, and eased forward with his hands raised.

The young dragon interpreted the motion as play and bounced to his feet. He continued his excited chirping, much to Hiccup's distress. Johann wasn't _that_ far away.

But his attempts to calm the dragon only encouraged him. Hiccup made a tiny, nervous sound. Clearly his methods were faulty. What did adult Nightfurys do, then, when there was danger and they needed silence? He hadn't the faintest idea.

So he improvised. Hiccup managed to place a palm on the young fury's nose, which briefly startled the dragon to stillness. He stroked down Toothless's neck, from his throat to his chest, and spoke softly to the fierce little nestling all the while.

"There you go… I know you haven't eaten yet today, bud, but I'll catch a big cod fish just for you if you'll be quiet with me for a moment…"

Eyes half closed, Toothless swayed with the rhythm of each soothing pet as if hypnotized. Hiccup was loath to look away in case he suddenly came to his senses, which seemed likely. But the dragon was quiet so he stretched as far as he could, trying to see over ridge, and wondered if Johann had heard. In his distraction he went from rubbing to absently scratching under the dragon's chin. Encouraged by Toothless's purring, he thought nothing of it and was baffled when the dragon collapsed with a pleased sigh.

"Uh yahh…" His eyes flicked from his hand to the dragon, out cold, and back. He was sure it wasn't how adult Nightfurys kept their chicks quiet, but it worked.

With one last peek to make sure Johann wasn't coming to investigate, Hiccup awkwardly scooped up the limp, snoozing reptile and darted away to where he'd left his pack in a thicket. He thought about emptying his pack so he could carry Toothless in it again, but the dragon had almost doubled in size, and certainly weight, inside a couple weeks. The pack was by no means sufficient. But, with Johann at a safe distance, it didn't need to be. All Hiccup had to do was wait for the man to leave.

Still, the pack held his attention. More specifically, the tears, scuffs, and bite marks that now adorned it. Hiccup ran his fingers along the back of his shoulder, felt the loose, fraying fibers that lined the slice in his shirt. It stretched almost halfway across his back. Beneath was a band of new, pink skin thick as his thumb where his freckles were faint or nonexistent, but no amount of scrubbing had completely removed the bloodstains from the fabric. He curled his toes against the thinning soles of his boots.

* * *

Trader Johann, it turned out, had been forced ashore by shifting tides as he tried to cross the straits and planned to depart the next morning. He recognized the son of the Chief, of course, but didn't seem to find Hiccup's walkabout unusual- only commented with a polite chuckle that Hiccup needed a haircut. Plus, after living off rations for weeks between his put-ins, the man was more than happy to trade a dinner of fresh greens and brook trout for some odds and ends. After that first transaction, it was easy to get the merchant going. So Hiccup returned that evening, after he stuffed Toothless full of fish and left the dragon safely tucked away in a food-induced coma. He traded his axe- a stunning, well-crafted weapon, but little more than dead weight to him- for a small hatchet, a hunting knife, some basic but compact leatherworking tools, a new shirt, a sheaf of unbound paper, waxstring, a large roll of leather, and a new satchel. He knew that few weapons ever made it off the island, they were needed, after all, but was still surprised at the value of the axe he took for granted.

What weapons dragon hunters would wield were prized indeed.

Johann was absolutely thrilled to possess the axe, claimed it made his temporary stranding worth it, and happily agreed to take news of Hiccup's continued survival back to his father in Berk. Stoick undoubtedly lived up to his name, but had lost family before. That his father would know not to grieve him was a weight off the young Viking's shoulders.

When Hiccup offered no timetable for his return to the village, the merchant casually suggested that there was a good chance he would be back in the area before winter. The implied offer caught the boy off guard. Not only did it seem unusually kind, but he hadn't allowed himself to think that far ahead yet. Hiccup gamely rplied that, if he hadn't returned to the village by that time, he would watch for the trader and have goods to exchange.

He wasn't an expert, his father had done the bartering, but Hiccup was more than sure that Nightfury scales and eggshells would be worth plenty and enough.

* * *

By dawn the next morning, trader Johann's longboat was small and distant against the flat plane of the sea. Hiccup sat at a cliff's edge, already binding his loose leaf paper into a new sketchbook, and watched the boat shrink to the sound of rushing waves and crying seabirds. The morning was hushed, a faint haze over the water brightened to gold as the sun rose. Cool air would soon warm, but still felt chilled when he took a deep breath. His new shirt was a darker green than the previous one, so similar to the hue of the moss that he imagined he must look like he'd grown from the rocks as well. Toothless lounged at his side like an overgrown cat, forepaws draped over the edge of the cliff, content for the moment to watch the word around him.

They sat there long after Johann's boat disappeared, after he'd finished binding his new notebook to leather. When at long last he stood his mind remained pleasantly empty, or, rather, pleasantly full with the world around him. The idea of Winter, and all that went with it, had been spoken aloud. And yet.

Hiccup smiled as Toothless rose.

"What do ya' say? We just keep going?"

* * *

**Yes, his wound is mostly healed; it was more a severe abrasion than a laceration. That's why it didn't bleed overly much and didn't need stitching/binding. No conversation with Johann; dialogue is supposed to be engaging, but it turns out that's not what this story is about. It came off very, very dull. Point is, Hiccup has resources now.**

**Yes, in My Side of the Mountain, Sam does keep his little peregrine falcon, Frightful, quiet by stroking her stomach. _Awwwww._ That little scene is one of the reasons I started this fic. I would also like to mention at this point that Toothless's mannerisms have always been flawless. He parallels most animals that people come in contact with. Dog? Cat? Horse? Reptiles, amphibians, birds? It's all there. How great it that? I got warm fuzzies during HTTYD 2, when Hiccup is talking to his mom and hooks his fingers into Toothless's mouth, sort of grabs the upper mandible and shakes his head. My wolfdog was mouthy when he was young, and I'd often hook my fingers around his teeth and tip him back and forth like that… You got me, Dreamworks. You win.**

**Today's quote is from Leonardo da Vinci. And Hiccup is learning. Slowly, he's learning to see.**


	6. Toothless Learns His ABCs

"_Once you have tasted flight, _

_you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, _

_f__or there you have been, and there you will always long to return."_

* * *

In Which Toothless Learns his ABCs

Hiccup's every day was spent with Toothless, and every day he worked with his companion. 'Work' probably wasn't the right word, though, as he enjoyed every minute of it, even when it took some effort. But neither boy nor dragon had ever had any contact with the other species. However pleasant, it was a _long_ process.

They started at the bottom. Hiccup would brandish a fish and call the dragon as he ran in for food. If he was farther away, Hiccup would whistle. Toothless grasped the concept almost immediately and seemed to enjoy the pets and praise as much as the fish he received. One day, Hiccup prepared for the day's hike and whistled for Toothless, who had wandered into the underbrush to chase small animals. Toothless wasn't even hungry, but bounded to Hiccup's side. The dragon didn't beg for fish, just leapt ahead and looked back at Hiccup was a gummy, expectant gape. The Viking was thrilled. Toothless had learned 'come'. When he took the time to notice, he realized that the dragon probably recognized other words, too. Easy concepts, like 'yes' and 'no', 'fish' and 'down'. Soon after the incident with trader Johann, he added 'stay' and 'quiet'.

Hiccup, too, learned what he thought of as 'dragon words'. Different postures and expressions and dragonish sounds that Toothless used to communicate. Slitted pupils not only signaled negative emotions like fear and anger, but could also show general attention or focus. So far as he could tell, rounded pupils were always positive, relaxed emotions. Sounds were pretty self-explanatory- bubbling sounds were good, jagged sounds were bad- but nuances of body language sometimes tripped him up. A dip of the head could mean different things depending on the position of the wings or a flick of the tail.

Hiccup soaked it all up like a sponge. Once, at the evening fire while he finished the day's mapping in his newly Nightfury intensive sketchbook, he felt Toothless's gaze on him. The dragon's lids were droopy with sleep, but his eyes held something like gentle recognition. When Hiccup looked up he cooed and shuffled his folded wings. The Viking wasn't sure if he had ever witnessed anything so content as that little dragon as he dozed off.

It only got easier as the two became more familiar with each other. Hiccup hadn't thought it possible, but Toothless became more expressive. He got bigger, slept less after he ate, and his personality filled out with the rest of him. Some habits he shared with other dragons: the sand grass he loved to roll in was universally adored by any dragon Hiccup approached, but the creature had quirks like any other individual. He had no patience for Terrible Terrors. The little dragons would still approach Hiccup for scraps, and some would have the audacity to try and steal the Nightfury's fish. Toothless had never really breathed fire, so Hiccup was puzzled when he spent most of an afternoon shooting small bundles of sparks from high in his throat. Not until the next evening did he realize- Toothless had worked out how to prematurely ignite the Terror's gas when they tried to breathe fire, but needed a small, accurate blast to pull it off. He'd been _practicing_.

The young Fury wasted no time in establishing himself as the terror of Terrors.

It wasn't long after Johann left that the two began a new game. Toothless became more coordinated and lighter on his feet with each passing day, so Hiccup started to toss his food so he'd jump after it or catch it in the air. Each time he would stand a little farther away, throw it just a bit harder. The dragon slowly matched him with more spectacular catches- if a tree trunk or rock wasn't close enough to ricochet off or leap from, he'd use a quick wingbeat or two to extend his jump and catch his fish as far from the ground as possible.

One morning Toothless made an extended leap from the top of a small rock outcrop, caught his fish clean, and ended his fifty foot glide to the ground with a trotting landing so smooth he might have been born doing it.

"Yeah!" Hiccup whooped and punched the sky.

He clambered down the outcrop to meet the equally giddy dragon with a wide grin. Toothless bounded about the sandy clearing like an excited puppy, wings half open and tongue lolling. When Hiccup reached the ground he bolted straight up to the Viking and tipped back on his haunches. He could almost look Hiccup in the eyes when he sat on the base of his tail and he stared intently, pupils narrowed for a moment in fierce concentration. Hiccup was about to verbally question him when his eyes rounded again and the dragon, with careful, deliberate movements, tugged his lips back in a gummy, toothless smile.

The boy first huffed in breathless disbelief, then threw a wild hug around his friend's neck when he found himself unable to control his laughter. They went fishing for cod that evening to celebrate.

Toothless was diligent in his practice after that. When Hiccup was busy catching the ever larger quota of fish needed to keep the fledgling fed, Toothless would scamper about practicing his glides, or perch on a tree branch and rapidly beat his wings. While Hiccup looked out over the shoreline as he mapped, the dragon was content to face into the wind with his wings held aloft and fins spread to their widest. In a week he cleared the treetops and flew shaky loops around Hiccup, chirping with exuberance whenever he made a close pass. Days later he started flights out to sea, would weave around a sea stack or two before he returned.

It filled Hiccup with a nervous energy. Not that he was worried about Toothless getting into trouble- no other dragons he met in the sky ever showed hostility, and though sea eagles had scolded him more than once the birds knew to keep their distance from even a small dragon. No, it was the Nightfury himself that worried him. After all, what dragon would stay wedded to the ground when the wider world was within reach?

He couldn't help but catch on to his companion's excitement and the free flight of a Nightfury was magnificent indeed. But too often Hiccup looked away, a feeling akin to grief tight in his chest. He only added the most basic anatomical depictions of Toothless's flight to his sketchbook.

The dragon caught his mood, of course, and fussed over the little Viking at every opportunity. Hiccup was too distant to catch the concerned edge to the overtures, but didn't turn down the opportunity to tussle with the dragon while he still could. They even invented a new game. In the evening, Hiccup found a cliff and used a length of scrap leather to hurl bits of fish as far and fast as he could. Toothless would hover above him like a leaf on the ocean wind and dive to snap them up. It was Hiccup who decided that the dragon had it too easy. He started throwing rocks and earth clots instead, and it took several minutes for a baffled Toothless to understand he was to shoot the targets out of the air as he dove, not catch them.

There was always the little voice in his mind- _Perfect, I'm training him up to attack the village when he flies-_ but Toothless was so determined to master the feat that Hiccup didn't have the heart to deny him. And the dragon _did_ need practice. He only hit once or twice in a dozen tries, which frustrated him to no end. The Viking found it endearing.

Despite Hiccup's silent fear, those hours were forever engraved in his mind as laughter and the colors of sunsets. They were pleasant evenings. By far the finest was the night he wrote:

"Toothless caught his first prey. He is now a true hunter. It was only a rabbit, but it beats the baitfish he's managed to splash out of the shallows. It happened unexpectedly. We were on the day's hike, Toothless was in the air when I spooked a rabbit.

"The rabbit fled across a meadow. Out of the sky came a black streak- I've never seen anything drop so fast. Toothless shot his plasma like in evening target shooting. He missed, but slowed himself with a great backwatering of wings and seized his stunned prey. For all his chasing them, he'd never caught one and was immensely pleased with himself. I was sure that was it. That he'd realize he didn't need me to hunt for him and go wild. Instead he winged to me so fast he tripped over the landing, and gave me his (now slimed with dragon spit) rabbit. He was grinning and wiggling in his excitement, and wouldn't leave me alone until I cooked and eaten as much of the rabbit as I could. He didn't seem interested in eating any of it himself.

"Maybe he just likes fish more. Or maybe he'll stick around even after he can hunt for himself."

* * *

**~Training montage~ And if Hiccup thinks he has abandonment issues _now_…**

**I've received some questions as to where this fic is going. I wanted something cute and pressure free to distract from depressing world events, but I've covered most of the endearing little scenes I set out to. Still, this story could be fun. And depressing world events just _keep happening_. So I may as well finish a parallel of the HTTYD arc, yeah?**

**Ergo! We are about halfway to the end. Little less. Direct references to My Side of the Mountain will dwindle. I'll squeeze in what I can in, and there will still be thematic parallels, but Sam is a passive protagonist. His climax sort of happens to him. But Hiccup? This kid has the reins, and a _Nightfury._ Hiccup will happen to his climax if it is the last thing I do. The divergence is coming.**

**Thanks for reading dear internet equivalents of ships in the night!**

**Many ascribe today's quote to Leonardo da Vinci- however, no one can actually trace it back to him. So, somewhere along the line, someone thought it would sound better coming from da Vinci. I'm attributing it to anonymous.**


	7. The Autumn Provides Flight and Fun

_"For we which now behold these present days_

_have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise." _

In Which The Autumn Provides Flight and Fun

The changing of the seasons blazed a trail across the island, and Hiccup was more aware of it than he had ever been before. Autumn first burned the grasses, dried them gold and brought them to seed that they could be spread by mice and birds and the eager, cooling wind. Small creatures of the woods grew bold as they busied themselves burrowing and gathering. It seemed the offended chatter of squirrels never ceased.

Strutting seabirds gathered to carpet the sandy beaches. Their long winged, wandering brethren gusted silently by. Smaller twittering birds rolled through the treetops and filled the mountains with song and the flash of wings. Others rose to whirl in great flocks that churned the air and moved as a single living mass when pressed by a falcon or a playful Toothless. The birds were ready to take their yearly leave.

The dragons never truly left. They were suppressed by the weather and attacked the village less in the harsh months, but did not retreat to the south. Yet even the scaled beasts seemed caught up in the season. They moved in larger groups, called to each other at a distance with roars and shrieks. Elusive breeds became more common. Hiccup got his first close encounter with a Zippleback when he found one that fall, sprawled in the shallows of an inlet as it scooped up double mouthfuls of schooling baitfish and let the seawater drain through sieve-like teeth. Other sightings he struggled to place from fireside stories and vague recollections of the, he now realized, woefully simplistic Book of Dragons. When an enormous shadow dipped beneath the clouds, he could only guess it was a Timberjack. Perhaps that one _was _on its way to greener forests.

In spite of the mild weather, the season of Winter, sly and dangerous as a Fury in the darkness, edged a foot in the door early as it was want to do on Berk. Not demanding, not yet. The chill of night was only a whispered promise. But, in the first light of day, needles and golden birch leaves lay heavy, gilded with glittering frost.

And yet Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III felt wonderful.

It wasn't that he was unaware of the approaching freeze. Far from it. It still unnerved him, flipped his stomach if he dwelled on it, but he worked to prepare. Gone were his fears that Toothless would grow out of him, and his meandering march north was never monotonous.

He snacked on late season berries, ate bulbs he was sure weren't poisonous, and gathered tubers from the water plants at the stream banks. He carved and tied different sized fish hooks of wood and bone to replace the ones he lost and set long lines out in the shallows to catch flatfish with hooks made of thorns. There were limpets to be popped from the rocks, rolled dragon bones to be pulled from the surf and fashioned onto tools, scales to collect, squirrels to race for the island's meager crop of nuts, and a certain fledgling Nightfury to chase and be chased by.

Every day the sun tracked lower in the sky, but the slant lent the light a rich golden cast. The air was cool enough to work in comfortably, to make the sunlight feel pleasant, but warm enough that he didn't shiver for lack of heavier cloths. At dusk he would lay down his satchel. A small fire was enough to cook fish, maybe a rabbit or grouse procured by Toothless, stuffed with wild herbs and sea salt boiled off in a mussel shell. If he was lucky he'd roast the nuts he'd gathered that day and enjoy an uncommon treat. Then, as darkness fell and the temperature dropped, he'd curl up with the living heater that was Toothless, who was large enough to wrap around the wiry Viking and cover him with one wing. Every night he fell asleep to the sound of sleepy dragon purrs.

In that beautiful, dying season, all was well.

* * *

The northernmost tip of the island appeared unexpectedly.

Hiccup knew he had to be getting close. Sure he'd been taken his time, more and more time as it went on, and traveled frequently frustrating terrain, but the island wasn't _that_ big. Still, he expected to see it coming. Toothless must have, but he hadn't. On an afternoon like any other he struggled up a rocky slope he was too stubborn to circumnavigate and at the top was met with-

Ocean.

Hiccup had been in boats, but never out on the open sea. It was more ocean- more _horizon_- than he'd ever seen in his life. When he stepped to the edge of the cliff the coasts slanted away behind him- he couldn't even see them out of the corners of his eyes. He was at the peak of the island. The world lay before him, blue on blue separated only by haze. Wind unbroken by terrain was cool against his cheeks, it tugged at his clothes and teased through unkempt hair.

The sight of such openness was thrilling enough, but Toothless chose that moment to wing by. He sailed over Hiccup's shoulder with a whisper of wind and glided into the vastness, perfectly at home. The Viking watched his dark form shape the wind and rise with nary a wingbeat, stark against the blue. He stood frozen to the spot- green eyes wide, jaw slack, throat inexplicably tight.

In that moment, to say he was at a loss for words would have been a criminal understatement.

It took another few minutes and a joyous flyby from a corkscrewing Toothless to get Hiccup moving. But, even as he put his back to the ocean and trotted over the rocks to shore, he could not keep the grin from his face.

"It's settled then!" He called to Toothless, who was far out of earshot. "We'll make our winter camp here!"

The next few days were spent scouring and mapping the area. Hiccup hunted down nearby streams and springs, made note of resources, and considered different sites for his camp. A cave at the base of a cliff? Conveniently sized and accessible, but too close to the surf. A hollow amid the turned up roots of a long fallen tree? Too exposed to the elements. A dip in the ground caught his attention, and he began to wonder how he could put some sort of a roof over it before he realized that it was likely a sinkhole. Not _exactly _the best place to sleep.

Just inside the tree line, above a grassy slope, he found a massive old tree with a rotten center. The tree was still alive and growing, but was filled with dry, punky wood. It was easily the best site he'd found, and he was tempted to hollow the dead wood out, to make his shelter inside the living trunk, but dismissed the thought with a sigh on thinking of Toothless. Not that the dragon would burn it down- no, while he loved a bed of warm coals he was careful with his fire and the green wood would be difficult to burn- but with the two of them the hollow would be a tight squeeze. Toothless's body was roughly the size of a pony's, though his short legs didn't bring his head up to Hiccup's waist. Plus wings and a long, finned tail? It would be cramped enough, not even counting how much the dragon would grow over the winter months…

It was on his defeated march down the slope that he discovered the weathered wreck of a Viking longboat. The fraction of the hull he could see curved from the ground like the ribs of beached whales curved from the sand. It would need some work, but it was _perfect_.

Glimpses of brown stoats newly mottled with their white winter coats reminded him of his time limit as much as the ominously chilling wind. So he built a fishing weir. It was a funnel made of tied and woven branches that would trap fish when baited and set in a deep part of a stream. With Toothless's food taken so care of, he busied himself with preparations for the dreaded season. With a ground-down dragon scapula he dug out the overturned boat to make a space big enough for himself and his dragon. He waterproofed and covered the hull over with sod, and, after a particularly gusty storm, made an evergreen branch-thatched 'door' to cover the entrance he'd left just big enough for Toothless to walk through. He dug shelves and pits into the earthen walls to hold his gear and store his gathered food. In the 'rafters' he strung up eatable plants to dry.

It was a fine shelter and Hiccup was more than a little proud of it, even if the inside was a dim for his taste. It annoyed him, but it was the thought of warmth that drove him to find a solution. After all, Toothless would keep him warm while he slept, but what if he needed to warm up when Toothless was out flying? He'd collected enough uncharred rabbit skins to line his boots and make a vest, but a coat or a blanket wasn't in the offing. Though his longboat lair felt like a cave to him, it would be as cold as the outside air.

The solution was simple: he would need a fireplace. And a chimney.

The first was easy enough- he dug out a hollow for a fire. But he needed something inflammable to keep the tunnel he dug for the chimney from collapsing.

Which is how he found himself hauling clay up from the coast in his old pack. He didn't need much, but clay was _heavy_ and he could have _sworn_ Toothless was laughing at his efforts. So Hiccup did not feel at all bad when he fell onto the dragon in exaggerated exhaustion and insisted he was altogether too tired to get up. He was careful were he landed as the hard black ridges that sprouted from Toothless's middle back were more prominent than ever, but his shoulders and the base of his wings were still safe. Hiccup clung there laughing, arms around the dragon's thick neck, as Toothless grumbled, squirmed and bucked and tried to shake him off.

"Ha! Is that all you've got you…" He trailed off as Toothless went still.

The dragon's ear-lobes flopped back. Hiccup didn't need to see the rest of his expression; he knew well enough when he was in trouble.

"Uh wah- what are you thinking abo- GAH-"

Toothless launched himself into a dead run. Hiccup yelped and held on for dear life as the Fury's bounding gait threatened to jar him loose. Tree trunks flashed by, but the dragon cleared the forest in moments and leapt across the tumbled rocks closer to the coast. His jumps got longer and longer until he hit the last boulder like a coiled up spring and vaulted from its peak. The Viking had just enough time to realize he was in the air before Toothless pitched forward and he was thrown across the sand.

Hiccup hadn't even stumbled to his feet before he was being butted and nuzzled by the concerned, cooing dragon.

"I'm alrig- _I'm okay_, bud. But why did-?"

He looked back at the boulder they'd soared from, then down at the tracks in the sand that showed where Toothless had crashed. It was a good distance and they hadn't hit hard, so why had the Nightfury crashed?

"Oh, _oh _I threw you off balance!"

Toothless still warbled his concern and nudged at his hand, but Hiccup couldn't keep the smile off his face. He gave the dragon's head a hug and a scratch to assure him that all was forgiven.

"Carrying me is probably a bit ambitious for your size, anyway. Don't worry, we can try it again later…"

'Later' was that evening, after Toothless helped haul the clay to the longboat, and every evening thereafter. It was because of all their time on the beach that they spotted trader Johann's boat soon enough for Hiccup to flag him down. The man was, understandably, not too keen on getting stranded in the straits again and eager to move on, so Hiccup gathered his goods without delay while Toothless hid in the trees. The dragon scales and bones that he collected weren't worth much; his village hunted dragons, after all, but he only had to give a chip or two of the Nightfury eggshell to get whatever he wanted.

Most of it was winter gear that he desperately needed- a tall pair of boots, winter furs treated for water resistance, and a heavy, dark brown woven cloak that enveloped his slight frame- but he also picked out more paper and a few more tools now that he wouldn't have to drag them to a new camp every day. Most prized, however, was a small oil lamp, oil and spare wicks for it, and leather. In case he needed to mend or make new clothing, of course, but mostly because his tentative gliding flights with Toothless had given him an idea he couldn't shake.

He wasn't sure that it had ever been done, or how he was going to go about it, but if the turn of the weather and Johann's dire warnings of a fierce and early winter were anything to go by, he may just have a fair bit of time to figure it out by the light of his oil lamp, while the first blizzard of the season entombed him in his shelter.

* * *

**See how I didn't drop a Rise of the Guardians salute even though I personified the seasons (which MSotM started, by the way!)? That is _self control_ *high fives self***

**Do you ever think about how these dragons catch food? I mean, sure they can fly and spit fire, but they're also brightly colored and have ridiculous dentition. The Zippleback's teeth really do remind me of filter feeders… Maybe their teeth will look even more like baleen in a couple thousand more years. I can see Furys and Gronkles blasting the water and scooping up stunned fish (though lets be real, a Fury could catch whatever it wanted). Maybe Nightmares land on top of a school and dive after them seabird style. Oh, I like that- their tails are even the right shape! Terrors could probably scavenge the beaches and make the occasional catch in the shallows. Nadders, tho. Idk. Maybe that's why they can do something so odd as throwing their spikes, though you'd think that'd be an expensive hunting method…**

**Also, I apologize for not replying to each of my reviews individually. My author's notes are long as it is though, guys, especially proportionately speaking. But I do read and enjoy all of your comments- and if there are questions after the story is done we'll see about a q&a at the end, yes? Now, bust out Test Drive because we are logging some flight time in the next chapter!**

**Quote is from a good ol' Shakespearean sonnet. He meant to flatter his target, but I love it for its broad applicability. Have you ever seen something _amazing_- a city lit up at night, an old warbird make a low pass at and airshow, the ISS fly over in silence, falcons winging past skyscrapers in the heart of a city- and been thunderstruck but just… _lacked the tongue to praise_?**


	8. Hiccup Has a Good Look at Winter

"_The past is another land, and we cannot go to visit. _

_So, if I say there were dragons, and men who rode upon their backs, who alive has been there and can tell me that I'm wrong?"_

* * *

In Which Hiccup Has a Good Look at Winter

The first blizzard was an early one, even for Berk. Hiccup and Toothless had their fun in the forgiving precursor, but were allowed only a brief respite before the winter became serious.

Snow no longer melted between storms, but piled up in massive windblown drifts that coiled at the bases of cliffs and rippled in the wake of even small obstructions like boulders or tree trunks. The temperature dropped until the air crackled with cold, even in the afternoon. Ice appeared along the coast almost overnight. All but the most boisterous lengths of the streams froze over, but even the rapids burbled beneath frozen shells.

Hiccup set up snares and stored food for himself, but Toothless preferred fresh fish and often disappeared for a few hours before nightfall. Presumably he went fishing beyond the pack ice, and his stomach was most always rounded when he returned. In the silent hours he was absent, Hiccup took to hiking the cliff faces and crags where the wind kept the snow swept away. It made for easy walking. There he wandered, watched avalanches on uncomfortably close mountain slopes, listened the creak of the frozen air and the chatter of the brave overwintering birds who's language was so different from the snippets of dragon he'd come to know.

To be alive in the clutches of winter so far from home, warm and well- not only that, but in perfect health. He'd not had so much as a _sniffle _of a cold. The immensity of it struck home every once and awhile as he stood on those cliffs. Never had he been so far from his village and, with Toothless gone, never had he felt so distant. He could eat, sleep and stay warm- outwit the winter and the winds and the wild, the storms that rolled fresh from the northern oceans and blasted his side of the island. He was capable, and he was proud.

In the evenings he ate, lit his little oil lamp, and talked to Toothless as he worked on his newest creation- an oblong leather saddle specially fitted to the Night Fury. It was fine work and took much longer to complete than it would have with the resources and ease of Gobber's forge. He filled pages with blueprints, measurements, and notes.

Toothless regarded the contraption with healthy skepticism, even though Hiccup had coaxed him into trying it on multiple times to check the fit. The wiry Viking all but wrestled him into the final design- a sleek thing, lightweight and made as two separate pieces so as not to restrict movement. The back piece was really the saddle- it sat just in front of Toothless's shoulders, as far back as it could be while still secured around his neck. The forward section of was much smaller. Secured by its own neck strap, it was essentially just a handhold.

Simple, but Hiccup was happy with it. Toothless less so, though the dragon warmed when he realized what it was for. If Hiccup thought he was the only one looking forward to tandem flights, he was sorely mistaken. The Fury was _eager_.

Their first attempts were miles ahead of where they'd begun only a few weeks previous. Toothless was stronger from his long fishing flights and knew what to expect, Hiccup was far more familiar with sitting on dragonback. They started on a higher prominence, one caked with blasted ice on the windward side. Though the air was calm and the sky a clear, crystalline blue, the silent duo picked their way up with undue care.

The first glide carried them out over the sea ice. The Viking barely dared breath, gaze fixed on where his mittens locked around the leather band that was his only handhold. He could _feel_ Toothless shift and tip as he checked and rechecked his balance, adjusted the angle of a fin here and the curve of a wing there to compensate for his rider's extra weight, before he turned broadside to the breeze and swept them back to the frozen shore.

When Hiccup slid off his back and onto the solid, windswept sand, his legs barely took his weight. He checked the saddle straps, which had not slipped or loosened. He sighted their starting point, which was now a fair distance away even though Toothless hadn't flapped his wings. Finally, he took note of the smooth landing. How he was definitely on his feet, not at the bottom of a snowbank, or dashed against the sea ice, or ground raw on the abrasive frozen sand.

It took a moment for success to dawn on Toothless as well. They glanced at one another, equal parts surprised and thrilled. A smile slowly stretched into a grin on Hiccup's face. Toothless's eyes widened and he wriggled with barely contained excitement. On a silent cue, the two bolted and raced back to the prominence, all laughs and bouncing steps.

Their second climb up the prominence halved the time of the first.

Their second launch was fearless.

The Nightfury slammed into the sky with a deep downstroke as soon as Hiccup was in the saddle. It wrenched the Viking backward, threatened to dislodge him when he'd scarcely left the ground, but he closed his eyes against the sudden rush of wind and clung to his handhold. Toothless smoothed into a glide almost immediately and cast a darting glance over his shoulder.

"Oh ho _ho_, I know that look." Hiccup groused as he righted himself, then leaned forward to escape some of the wind. "You did that on purpose."

The dragon had the decency to look sheepish, and his responding blurble could only be described as placating.

"Yeah yeah, well, whaddya say we try to keep it under control for n-"

Hiccup trailed off and sat up in spite of himself when the view finally registered.

The coast lay unraveled below him, the mountains still towered above. Snowdrifts glared a blinding white in the sun, their shadows stretched long and pale. Towering trees, now bare and iced, seemed insubstantial. Old growth forests huddled wherever their roots could take hold on the rocks. Winter had pulled the moisture form the air, frozen the haze from the sky. To the left, even the most remote snow crowned mountain cliff and cavern stood out in sharp relief- on the right the dark and patchy edge of the pack ice was visible in the far distance. Their prominence was an insignificant feature on the shore and the northern tip of the island was within easy reach. What took days of hard hiking could be gained by wing in _minutes_.

Toothless held a gentle, smooth turn, apparently to humor his rider's gawking. The uninitiated might mistake his perfectly relaxed patience for contentment, but his ear-lobes were tipped up ever so slightly. He was listening. Waiting.

It did not go unnoticed for long.

"Al-_right_." Hiccup nodded and let his shoulders slump in clear surrender, then flashed a broad grin. "Let's go higher."

The dragon's answering rumble vibrated through his bones.

* * *

That night Toothless slept soundly. Hiccup stayed up. He was none the worse for ware, really, save for some sore muscles, windburnt cheeks, and horrifically tangled hair. By the light of his oil lamp he sketched a design for a mask of wood and leather to protect his face and a fur wrap that could be secured to it to cover the back of his head and his neck. He noted where he wanted to add loops to the saddle's neck strap so he would have something to tuck his feet into, and where it needed extra padding both for his and Toothless's comfort.

Endless ideas and possibilities rattled in his head, and he slept little that night.

The morning dawned sharp with a piercing cold the likes of which Hiccup had never known. Not even the Nightfury dared anything but a peep out of the door. The fire was going, but Hiccup still wrapped up in his full winter gear. A number of times throughout the day he heard sharp, echoing reports in the distance. He could only liken them to the _crack_ of a heavy metal axe splitting in the heat of battle, or the sound the great overhead beams of the mead hall had made once during a raid when an injured Gronkle crashed into them at full speed and shattered them like kindling.

Those comparisons were not at all heartening, so it wasn't until days later, when the weather broke, that he investigated and discovered trees shattered and split open as if struck by lightning. He recognized it- like barrels and buckets in the village that split and burst when they froze. The trees held out longer, but when they failed they did so with explosive, deadly force.

He hadn't ventured out at all on those days. Oblivious to exactly how wise that decision was at the time, he spent them curled between his dragon and his fire, painstakingly crafting wood and leather with chilled, bare fingers.

And when the weather broke, he was ready.

* * *

"Timberjacks and Thunderdrums both spend extended periods away from shore, the Jacks in the sky and the Thunderdrums in the open sea. If either suddenly retreat, head for shelter. They can predict a turn in the weather with almost uncanny accuracy._"_

In the wilds, Hiccup had always lived close to the weather. Yet he was surprised at just how much his perspective changed after he started literally throwing himself into it. When not a cloud passed unnoticed or a wind blew untested it would've been difficult _not_ to learn. He picked up on the moods of the winds, the tell-tale signatures in the clouds, the shapes and colors of storms and where they all came from. The behavior of animals was just as informative, with Timberjacks and Thunderdrums by far and away the most telling.

Hiccup noted them as such in a sketchbook, dropped the entry in below a small spread of a half dozen gliding Timberjacks, and lifted his gaze. He sat on the jutting crown of a sea stack with his cloak draped about him. The breeze was soft enough that he could get away with drawing, but cold enough that he left his mask on and only bared his left hand. The mask was an odd one, not like the first he'd made. Black leather stretched over a carved wood frame. It was almost the same color as the Nightfury's scales and stood out in stark contrast against the white rabbit fur wrap he wore to protect his upper neck and ears.

Those rabbit furs and the coarser furs that lined his cloak tickled at his neck. He flexed his left hand, cramped from drawing and stiff from the cold. Past the smoky leather at his nose, he could smell the sea.

Toothless wheeled not far away as he worked a school of small fish with the assistance of at least three humpback whales. A pair of Thunderdrums arrived late to the party and Hiccup sketched them in below his latest note, taking care to include their characteristic forward-facing spouts. He noted with satisfaction that the dragons were not hurried as they would be before a storm.

It wasn't that Hiccup was particularly scared of storms- Toothless had long since proven he could navigate even in whiteout conditions. And if the wind was too bad, they could shelter in even the most impromptu crag. Hiccup had taken to carrying a little extra food, and it was near impossible to chill a coiled-up Toothless. They could wait out the storm. By midwinter they had already done so more than once.

But he wore a constant reminder almost literally on his forehead- a situation could go from harmless to dire in a breath. A thin band of brown leather lay tight against the forehead of the mask where it could easily be pulled down to cover the eye-holes, like a blindfold. It would have been _exactly_ like a blindfold, in fact, had Hiccup not cut two thin slits in it, one for each eye. He could barely see out of it. That was the point.

Toothless had grown and built up enough muscle that Hiccup started tagging along on his fishing excursions. He'd deposit Hiccup before he flew out to sea, leaving the Viking to contentedly explore for hours. A few weeks previous, somewhere around midwinter, if Hiccup had to guess, they'd flown east not long after dawn. There'd been an ice storm the day before, but it was the kind of day Hiccup had grown to love- bitterly cold but shockingly clear, just like the first day he'd properly flown with Toothless. His eyes started to water halfway through the flight but he wiped his cheeks, wrote it off as a side effect of the glare of sunlight off the ice, and whenever he could tried to tip his head so his prototype mask shaded his eyes.

It was not enough.

The dragon dropped him off and departed, as per usual. It didn't occur to Hiccup to feel anything but annoyed about his watering, gritty eyes, so he started away with a quick step, as if he could outpace the uncomfortable sensation. A half hour later he noticed his vision had gone hazy. As if a white fog had descended, he could not see into the distance even though his every other sense insisted it was a calm, clear day. He turned back, followed the trench he had made in the snow as the fog encroached and blotted out the whole of his vision. He didn't panic until he lost his tracks on the windswept beach. Then he stumbled and staggered in the direction he though he must have come from, bit his tongue to keep himself from crying as he hit obstacles he couldn't see and fell over again and again.

Toothless found him hours later, curled up against a boulder, mask at his feet and tears frozen on his face. The anxious Fury nudged and nuzzled and cooed, but it only started the young Viking crying again. When he tried to curl around the distraught boy, he was pushed away with shaking hands.

Hiccup crept his way into the saddle and _begged_ "Let's go home, bud. Just take me home…"

Dear, unerring Toothless took him back to the longboat, the only home the Fury had ever known. And though it was what he expected, Hiccup wasn't sure if it was the 'home' he'd meant.

It took two days for his vision to return. He didn't eat until it did. When he made a new mask to replace the one he'd left on that beach he carved out a ridge of bumps on the forehead, just like those on the flat of the dragon's head, and rubbed oil and charcoal into the leather until it shone black.

His hands were _still_ blackened from that stain, but he found he didn't much mind. Hiccup sat on the sea stack, absently watched Toothless circle over what had once been a school of fish. It couldn't be coincidence that he hadn't left Hiccup's sight since the snow blindness incident. Hiccup appreciated it beyond words.

But he glanced south as he closed his sketchbook and tucked the utensils away. It had taken him almost five months of unhurried walking to reach the north tip of the island. He guessed Toothless could easily reach Berk by noon, with an early start.

He tucked the thoughts away as well.

Later. Soon now, but later. He would cross that bridge when he came to it, and before then he would not be chased away. He was a _Viking, _and he was not alone. With Toothless at his side, not even blindness in the teeth of winter would best him.

* * *

**I loved the slitted eyes on Valka's mask. Between persistent snow/ice and flying above the clouds, there must be a lot of opportunities for glare to fry a rider's eyes. The snow blindness episode is a nod to one of my all-time favorite books, The Foxman (and if you've read and like _that_ one, you may consider me your staunch ally). It's another Paulson, which reminds me…**

**Shout out to Hatchet (technically Brian's Winter) fans! Trees can and do explode when they freeze, but we're talking some _serious _cold- unreal cold. Cold that makes 'spit and it bounces' cold look sweater weather. -50, -60 degrees F (Google says that's -45, -50 C?!). Dammit, Jack! Were you_ trying_ to kill them?**

**No, Frost isn't, and will not be, in this story. But I do have a soft spot for him. Perhaps he brought that first blizzard on for giggles, bounced on a branch and laughed when snow dumped on the dragon-boy and the Nightfury pup. Played in the wind and swept around them when they flew. Shouted encouragement and cheered them on with an honest, gleeful smile no one could see before he roved on. Maybe, midway through the twentieth century, he paused on a New York mountainside and reminisced as he watched a young man with a falcon on his fist go sledding on a snapping turtle shell. Hummed to himself, _Nice to see a familiar face_. And though weary of bittersweet, wove for the falcon-boy a winterscape worthy of any North Sea isle and smiled in fond remembrance even though there was still no one to see…**

**No, there will be no Hic/Tooth romance. And, if you listen closely, you can hear distant weeping as the MSotM readers are traumatized at the very thought.**

**This quote is from the author of the HTTYD books herself, Cressida Cowell. I do not like where some people could take this; one does not simply brush off the burden of proof, folks. 'Lack of evidence is not evidence of lack' is still a logical fallacy. Do not fall prey to its wiles. But! Being reasonable does not mean we have to be sticks in the mud! And does that quote not spark the imagination?**


End file.
